Watari's Goggles
by Miharu is Harukas Love Child 2
Summary: As it turns out, it was Roger who asked Matt to follow Mello. ADVENTURE/FLUFF. M/M Implied lemon. B-day gift for Living in a fantasy.


Watari's Goggles (originally posted on my old account Miharu is Haruka's Love Child)

Genres: humor/adventure/romance/fluff/shounenai

**original A/N**: _It was Living in a fantasy's birthday like a forever ago. I promised her this from like months ago, and it's taken me forever to write because __**fluff is difficult for me to write**__. XD The prompt was "travel plans gone wrong." Everyone is now staring at me like…wft does that prompt have to do with the title or summary? I like to twist my prompts as much as I can, so I'll just say…this was really fun to write. Hope you like it, April._

_Disclaimer: I made some fun unrealistic adjustments with this…things involving trains and bananas and boats and timing and shit, that are unanchored in real life. Just go with it, it's fun._

* * *

"What? L…L can't be dead!"

Roger nodded his head solemnly, his hand involuntarily slipping towards a picture of his friend, Quillish.

"So…what happens now?" the redhead asked, his hands trembling as he reached for a pack of Pall Mall's from his jeans pocket.

Roger Ruvie ignored his knees' arthritic tendencies as he moved adjacent his office window. The steady pitter patter of the rain hit the ground, seeming to mourn the loss of two great geniuses—the great detective L and his mentor Quillish Wammy.

"He never chose a successor."

"Oh…so…what does that mean, exactly?"

Roger turned and faced Matt dead on before expressing his wishes, "I want you to follow Mello."

"What do you mean, 'follow Mello'? Why would you need me to follow him if…oh…ohhhhh. Shit. That idiot ran away, didn't he?" The boy slid a cigarette from his box and lit it up where he sat.

"Mello threw the formal title of L on Near and took off before I could even try to stop him. He refused to take any of the money or contacts we could have provided him with. I can only imagine how he expects to investigate like that, much less feed and clothe himself…and I'll never forgive myself if I just let him out on his own without any sort of support line."

"You mean you're actually scared for Mello's safety? I didn't know you had a heart, Roger." Matt looked nonplussed.

"Matt, think about it. A very desperate _Mello_ out there against the world, bent on revenge, with no one to rein him in or hold him accountable for his actions."

The redhead blinked, "You're right. That's incredibly irresponsible. The poor world won't know what hit it. I can see the headlines now, 'Raging Cross Dresser Kills Five Million in Blockade for World Supply of Chocolate.' Stop shitting me, old man."

Roger sighed before sinking back into his desk chair. None of the orphans were actually easy to deal with, but of all the children, Matt was the least reasonable. He should have just thrown a wad of money at redhead and shoved him out the door! Instead, he pulled open his desk drawer to retrieve a rusty old key. The boy stared at the man's outstretched hand and blinked.

"Roger?"

"This is the key to L's old room. Near wishes to meet with you there to discuss the case. I'm going to arrange some equipment for you to take on your journey and leave you with an emergency phone to call Near with."

Matt tossed his cigarette bud in Roger's waste basket and snatched the key from the man's grasp, "You're really bloody fucking serious? Well then, you'd best pack me a hell of a lot of fags, old man, or I shall be royally pissed."

Matt wasn't sure how long it had been since any living person had entered the room, but he nearly broke the door down in attempt to persuade the rusty hinges to swing forward. Key or not, L's room was protesting any entry. The boy was anything but impressed once he'd officially entered the quarters. The room hadn't been lived in for years, if the cobwebs were any indication. It was smaller than most of the other rooms in Wammy's House, with a single twin bed and the blandest curtains Matt had ever seen. He couldn't make much of it out in the half-light flooding from the hallway, however, and flicked the light on. His eyes washed over rest of the room, drinking in the utter chaos—every inch of the room that wasn't covered in fabric, was covered in scratches and markings with pencil or chalk. It took Matt a while to understand that the scribbles were an elaborate coding of some sort, but it wasn't anything like he'd ever seen.

He breathed to himself, "Just what did Wammy have you do in this room, L?"

The redhead let his fingers run across some of the drawings and he was surprised to see some markings looked a little too much like bloodstains. Upon closer glance, he could make out the faintest outline of a hand print and the initials _B.B. _in the immediate proximity. He had to repress a shudder as his sight line picked up a small set of chains protruding from the bedside. The walls were screaming a story at him, and he hadn't the slightest clue how to listen.

"It's not a puzzle meant for Matt to solve. He should be grateful that he does not have to concern himself with such things. He should be grateful that this is not the life he will live."

The boy whipped around to find himself facing a younger boy, dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans. His sudden apparition made Matt remember how in younger days, he had questioned whether the other child was a ghost. Children _that _towheaded were rare outside of albinos, but nothing about the boy's demeanor suggested his age, and in a place like Wammy's, his white hair was of little concern. Matt faced the other full on, narrowing his eyes at his rival's presence.

"Near."

"Matt."

Near moved to Matt's right and pulled out the third drawer from the desk, dumping it on the floor. The way he moved around, Matt doubted that this was Near's first time in L's room.

"This is _my _room now, and I have taken liberty of searching every inch of it already," he confirmed the redhead's thoughts.

The boy shuffled his socks against the carpet before picking up a pair of goggles from the mess. He handed them to the redhead, and the boy could make out a name engraved on the strap. _Quillish Wammy_. He slipped them on and adjusted the strap. They were incredibly lightweight and lenses were embossed with a refractor shielding that bent the light at such an angle that Matt felt like he was wearing magnifying glasses when his eyes focused on one point, and normal lenses at another. He clicked a button on the side and his world was suddenly splashed in gold as the lenses took on tint.

"These were Watari's work goggles. Why are you giving me these?"

"Do you remember when we were much younger and Mello used to break out and get lost for hours and Roger would go crazy looking for him? He finally asked Wammy to install a tracker on Mello's rosary," Near returned Matt's glare with a forced smile, "If Matt can figure out how to use the goggles, he can always find the rosary. Keep Mello alive, Matt."

L's third successor stood in the doorway of the room, his shadow casting parallel's with the first in line. He made to leave when the younger boy made one last remark.

"Matt, I do not hate you."

From Near, that was almost a declaration of friendship or brotherly love. To Matt, it was his cue to get the hell out of there.

Leaving Roger, however, was far more difficult than the redhead had initially thought. The old man kept trying to give him some sort of goodbye speech, some desperate attempt at making up for being less than a fatherly figure in the years they had lived together. Matt wanted to die on the spot when the old man enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Good _bye_ Roger! Mello will be halfway to Siberia by the time you let go of me."

He nearly had to wrench himself away from his surrogate father before grabbing the prepared knapsack and running out the front door. He didn't even look back as the iron gate swung violently behind him. Freedom was a beautiful goddess waiting to shroud him in light and warmth.

* * *

Freedom was an incredibly fucked up concept invented by adults to make children want to grow up too fast. Matt was cold, and the rain had drenched him into one miserable heap. He'd been tracking Mello for four days but he hadn't properly hacked into the goggle's system, so no matter how close he was to the blond, he kept getting mixed signals and dodging his target entirely. To make matters worse, Roger had packed him mostly perishable foods, like peaches, and the things that weren't ready to spoil consisted purely of granola bars and rice cakes. As if Matt would actually _eat_ that shit! He was cold, tired, hungry, and bored out of his friggin' mind.

The boy was ready to say that Near had sabotaged the headgear when the hologram projection spotted movement nearby. He followed the little red dot in the lens map to a cargo hold for a train. It was a large shipment of…_the redhead blinked_, bananas? Why in the hell would Mello follow a large shipment of bananas? England didn't even _export_ bananas! But there was the blond, weaving in and out of the crates, probably intent on riding in the freight hold.

He couldn't risk following the blond into the same train cart, but he needed to be near the other boy or he'd lose him again. With a bit of ingenuity, Matt managed to squeeze himself between some of the boxes as the workers turned their backs to pick up another load. Then in a split second decision, he made a mad dash for the loading car behind the one Mello was hiding in. It wasn't filled with banana crates. The redhead threw himself towards the darkest corner of the space and crouched low, covering his nose and his ears. The stench was nearly unbearable. Every inch of the place was filled with dirty squawking chickens. For the second time in ten minutes, Matt was beside himself. What the _fuck _kind of operation was this? Bananas…chickens…what was next? Clowns? The boy was about ready to jump and find another place to hide when the door slammed and all the light was swallowed into the clucking around him.

Just. Matt's. Luck.

Matt was sure he'd simply blinked and sleep had overtaken his body, because his eyes snapped open as someone shook him violently awake. His nostrils filled with the stench of body odor and stale smoke as he tried to adjust to the little brightness emanating from his assailant's cheap cigar.

"Hey kid, you alive?" the voice was gruff and scratchy.

The man's breath reeked; Matt was sure he hadn't brushed his teeth in years and he turned his head away in repulsion. Matt's shoulders were released and he turned his attention back to the bum. Ragged dirty clothes covered his body in many ill-fitting layers and the boots he adorned had more holes than a block of Swiss cheese. The boy didn't like the way he was being glanced over and repressed a shiver.

"Who the fuck are you? How long have you been here?" he spat defiantly.

"I could ask you the same question. You're riding in my usual spot, and the ladies," he waved his grungy hand around at the chickens, "don't seem to have taken a liking to you."

"What do you want?"

"Relax, kid." The man leaned back, leaving the air stale in his wake as he pulled a beat up harmonica from his pocket, "You aint in any danger."

The bum called himself Sidney. He'd been hitchhiking trains for over forty years had hopped in on a scheduled stop that Matt had completely slept through. Learning that he'd slept through an entire stop alarmed the redhead, but a quick check on the tracking system in the goggles told him that Mello was still nearby, so he wasn't completely worried. Not like he could exactly _check_ as the train was in rapid transit to Zelda knows where.

Matt felt guilty as the man offered him half of a soggy sandwich, and pulled out the power bars and things from his small pack and handed some in return to Sydney. The man wasn't even too bad company, as when he played his rusty harmonica, the chickens seemed to squabble less. So they talked. And even though he smelled really rank, Matt preferred the old man's company to that of the poultry.

Matt found himself talking more than he had in years of living with other children in Wammy's house. Somehow, the old man just seemed to absorb everything that he said without judgment, and in turn, gave pieces of himself to the boy. Matt even talked somewhat about Wammy's House and Mello and 'running away'. He altered the details a bit, of course, but lying _was_ his forte.

"…so now I'm stuck following that idiot so he doesn't end up in a ditch under a bridge somewhere." He finally huffed in frustration.

Sydney nodded, "You seem to be a very dedicated friend."

"Friend? I'm nobody's friend." The boy sighed in exasperation, "And neither is that idiot. That's partly his problem, you know? He thinks the entire world is his enemy and always tries to fight his battles alone. If he'd just drop the act and accept some help every once in a while, he'd save himself so much suffering."

"You seem to care an awful lot for someone who isn't his friend."

Matt didn't know how to respond to that. Mello wasn't someone he was ever on good terms with, and the blond frustrated him to no end. All his obsessing over being L and throwing tantrums when Near won. Being one of L's successors grated on everyone's nerves, but once when they were _much _younger, Matt had caught Mello crying in a broom closet over the latest rankings. It was in that moment that the redhead had decided the whole system could go to shit. Seeing _tough bitchy Mello_ like that, with tears streaming down his cheeks, was unnerving. But it wasn't really the idea of Mello crying that bothered Matt, it was the injustice of watching all the children become living experiments and wracking their brains far beyond their limits that irked him. It wasn't the way Mello had looked up at him with those sad sad eyes that made him stomach squirm…or the way the blond silently hugged his knees in such utter dejection…no Matt wasn't thinking of _any_ of those things. Hell, the old man was wrong. He didn't care one bit about anyone, least of all Mello.

"Everyone needs a friend, kid. Then, at least you won't die alone."

Instead of answering, Matt handed Sydney his lighter and the two of them had a smoke in silence.

Two days. Two days he had been stuck in that hellhole with the chickens and the train bum. Granted, he'd taken a real liking to the vagabond, but Matt was more than happy to ditch his fowl companions.

"Hey Sidney! Sidney! Fresh air! Come on, let's get off before we're spotted."

There was no sound other than a few clucks and rustling of feathers. Matt looked around and found the old man in the corner where they'd slept. He called out again with no response. He prodded Sydney, but the skin of his face felt cold. Matt slowly backed away, color draining as he tried to block out the corpse he left behind.

The blinking red dot in the tracking system told him that his target was on the move, and Matt couldn't afford to stay if it risked losing Mello's location.

The only comfort in abandoning the body was the knowledge that if nothing else, he hadn't let the man die alone.

When Matt found himself trailing familiar boxes at a shipping hold, he was ready to rip Mello into pieces. He was mildly relieved knowing that there was no way to sneak in with the crates like they'd done with the train. Buy why stick around the damn shipping yard? _Unless…_

The blond couldn't possibly be thinking of hiding in one of the banana crates, could he? Matt practically bashed his head against a wall as he saw the boy slip in behind a cargo loading truck with a crowbar in his hands. _Damn his luck._

"You have got to be kidding me!" he screamed at the nearest crate before kicking it, "Damn you, Mello. Damn you."

* * *

Stealing a ride on a boat wasn't nearly as pleasant as hitchhiking on a train. Matt couldn't believe he'd sealed himself away in a _fucking crate_ just to get aboard the damned thing. But getting in the wooden box wasn't the difficult thing. No, finding a way _out _of the piece of shit was the ordeal. The hammer he kept with him in the crate was small, and the lever end did little to pry the sides open. It must have taken him over two hours to get the damn side to splinter a bit, and he was proud of even _that. _He cussed the box out in frustration before he felt himself tumbling sideways, or rather, the crate was falling and gravity was taking him with it.

He felt light flood over him as the side of the box was ripped violently from its adjoining pieces.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Matt?"

He didn't need to look up to know that Mello was addressing him. He did look up though once the boy slapped him upside the back of his head.

"The fuck, Mello? What was that for?"

Matt felt himself being tugged upwards and suddenly he had the breath knocked out of him as he was thrown against another crate.

"I don't like repeating myself. Why are you here, _Matt_?"

Matt squinted up at Mello. The blond was seething. And the redhead's ability to lie was fading with every passing second.

"I'm…I just…Roger told me to follow you." He finally confessed.

Mello let out a string of expletives, "I don't believe this bullshit. I don't need a fucking baby sitter!" and lunged at Matt.

Fists began to fly as the boys rolled around the floor. Mello connected with Matt's jaw and Matt kicked his knees, giving him momentum enough to fling the older boy over the side of the nearest crate. Mello's reflexes were fresh though, as he hadn't been cramped in a crate as long as the other teen, so he sprung right back at the redhead throwing his hands around the other's throat.

"M-Mello, I c-can't breathe."

"That's the point, dipshit."

There was a sudden clank of metal and the telltale sound of a door opening. The boys froze at the shuffle of descending boots came to meet them. Mello immediately released Matt and they scrambled to hide behind the crates. Mello nearly dove on top of the redhead as voices filled the space of the cargo hold. The blond had to shove his hands over the redhead's mouth to stop him from gasping out at the sudden weight atop his own body.

"Oi. Jerry, I thought I told you to secure these crates, mate. Look this mess. Valuable shipment just lying all helter-skelter. What'll the boss say if sees this?"

Mello's hair chose that moment to brush against Matt's nose, causing him to sneeze.

"Quiet a mite, Jerry! You hear that? Someone's down here."

The boys stilled as the men began to search. Mello pressed himself even lower onto Matt and they could feel each other's hearts rapidly pulse with adrenaline. Neither breathed for fear of discovery, but with the earlier mishap, it was inevitable. The boot sounds kept coming closer.

"My, my, my. What do we have here? It's a couple of stowaways."

"No passports?"

They shook their heads.

"No parents?"

Silence.

"No money?"

Mello was getting tired of their useless questions, "we aint got shit."

"Oi, what shall we do with these boys?"

"Well Jerry, I can't see we can glean anything off of them. I suggest when we get to port, we throw them overboard."

* * *

Matt looked around and prodded the blond boy, "Where the fuck are we?"

"America. Can't you tell what accent this is? I think this is New York."

The boys heard a scream and turned.

"Take this you little tramp!"

"Ugh! Help!"

Matt and Mello turned towards the voices to find the tall silhouette of a man. He was cursing as he took a lead pipe and smacked it across a defenseless hooker who was cowering against the brick wall of the alleyway. She screamed in agony as a blow hit her abdomen and crippled her against the brick and mortar. After a few more kicks to her face, the man left, throwing his pipe aside and flicking up his collar as if murder was part of his every day routine…which it probably was.

Horrified, Mello turned to Matt, "He killed her. He just….in broad daylight!"

They approached the body and Matt knelt by her, lifting her arm and checking her pulse, "She's still alive, but she'll die out here if we leave her."

It was at that moment, the woman decided to cough, her eyes fluttering open for the briefest moment before she collapsed down on Matt and he nearly toppled over her.

"What do we _do _with her?"

"We…I don't know, Mello. I don't know."

Candy, as she called herself, didn't seem the slightest bit phased about being beaten within an inch of her life.

"Occupational hazard," she shrugged at them.

At first, the boys hadn't known what to do with her. They'd lifted her up and carried her to a nearby park and set her down on a bench, but quickly realized that she attracted too much attention and the snow did nothing for her condition. Eventually, they came across a cardboard jungle, sorts of housing projects—homeless people huddled around burning trashcans, holding all their belongings in bags or stolen shopping carts. It didn't seem so out of place to abandon an unconscious prostitute in the middle of that atmosphere. In the end though, they couldn't just leave her alone and stayed with her until she woke up.

Helping the woman had more perks than either boy could have imagined, however, as she insisted on repaying their kindness by offering them a place to sleep and some warm food. They followed her to a rundown lot that had nothing more than an outhouse and a rusty old truck with frost-covered windows, cinder blocks holding it up instead of tires.

"This is Beulah, my truck. Everything I own is in this baby. Treat her nicely."

"You named your truck? Isn't that a guy thing?"

"Of course I didn't name the truck. My ex-husband did. I miss him sometimes." Candy got this glazed look over her eyes.

"What happened to him?" Mello could have slapped Matt for prying like that, but the woman didn't seem to mind.

"Huh? Oh, Charley? Charley just disappeared one day…he was, well he was one of those gang members, you know? Rolled with this guy named Señor Frenchie. Real classy dude. Owns several of the strip joints and half the meth trade this side of Jersey. Never liked that man. Anyhow, Charley disappears one day and that's somewhat how I ended up back in the body trade. Yep."

Mello stared at the girl with new found interest, "How would one go about arranging a meeting with this 'Frenchie'?"

"Oh well if you're pretty enough, he'll hire, but Mello, you don't want the kind of life I'm living. You're young still and shouldn't get mixed up in this shit. Besides, in this business, the market wants chicks, not dicks." The woman seemed slightly alarmed at Mello's question.

The blond threw his hair back and narrowed his eyes, "I'm talking about an entirely different sort of business proposition."

"Mello are you fucking crazy?" Matt stared at his companion, "What could you _possibly _want with a guy like that?"

Mello only grinned at the redhead, "Small time gang connections always lead to the bigger fish. We can use this Frenchie to climb our way into the organized crime syndicates. Can you imagine, Matt, the kind of resources at our fingertips, if we could tap into the Mafia?"

"Okay, dude! You have seriously lost it. Just supposing they're willing to talk to you, 'cuz who's gonna take a 15 year old seriously, I mean c'mon. Supposing they listen to you, what the hell can you offer them that won't get you a bullet to the head?"

"Between my brain and skill at building strategy and your hacking skills, I'm sure we can think of something."

Matt grew silent. Then he sat on his hands…it was the only way he could keep himself from bring bodily harm to the other boy.

"I'm working with a lunatic. Great. My life is beautiful!"

* * *

It took some persuasion, but Mello convinced Candy to set up a way for him to meet with Frenchie. There was a 50-50 chance that the man would refuse to be seen, but Candy had a few 'coworkers' in the L'Amour Gentlemen's club and knew that Christmas night he and his cronies would stop by for a few hours. Mello would have one chance, and one chance only at making an impression on the gangster, and once she got him in there, he would be alone.

Candy's hospitality extended as far as feeding them what she could and letting them sleep in the truck with her. She was reluctant to stay near Matt and Mello's constant bickering, however, and found many excuses to escape their presence.

"Boys, I need to go buy some Epsom salts. I don't know how long I'll be as all the stores are crazy this time of year. I'll see if I can't find a few extra jackets or something and a bit of food for us. There might be some snacks and water in the trunk, so help yourselves and hold tight until I come back."

"Later, Candy."

Mello rummaged through 'Beulah' until he found a cup of instant ramen and some bottled water. There was only one though, so they agreed to share. Finding forks was nearly impossible though and Matt had to hunt down a Starbuck's to filch some plastic utensils. Mello procured a tea kettle and rack from the trunk and they built a small campfire with the spare wood bits that lay in the alley.

When the tea kettle whistled, the redhead pulled it off the grate and poured the hot water into their lunch. Mello rubbed his hands together in an attempt to conserve body heat.

"It'll be warmer if we eat in the truck."

"Yeah. Let's do that."

They returned to Candy's old Chevy and turned the radiator on, warming up from the cold. Matt pulled the paper off the styrofoam and handed a plastic fork to his companion as they huddled closer, the ripped leather upholstery creaking under their weight.

"You're a real bitch, you know that?" Matt whispered, remembering Sydney's words that he cared more about the blond than he let on. Matt let the question hang in the air. For a fleeting moment, something passed through Mello's eyes, but the emotion was unreadable.

"Shut up and eat, smart ass."

The boys twirled their forks around the ramen cup and slurped up their noodles. A few of them overlapped each fork and as they ate, and they found the strands connected between their mouths. It wasn't until he caught Matt looking right at him that Mello realized their exact proximity. Yet, something kept him from scooting away. The redhead sucked his end of ramen and inched forward until more than the noodles connected the two boys. Someone dropped the cup and splashed broth and ramen all over the floor and dashboard, but neither of them were thinking about Candy's car as they explored each other's mouths with their tongues. Mello fingered Matt's hair as the younger boy straddled his lap and suddenly every pent up emotion they'd harbored in the last week was surfacing in urgent touches and kisses. When the redhead's fingers ghosted across Mello's belt buckle, it wasn't from hormones or misplaced affections. It was from hunger to satiate the pain of growing up alone and friendless.

"You don't have to fight all by yourself, you idiot," The redhead whispered. "I'm not going to let you fight alone anymore."

Mello acknowledged the other by crushing their lips together. Words weren't needed. The windows soon fogged up, and not at all from the steam of their forgotten soup cup.

When Candy returned from the Goodwill, she had a box of clothes and a small feast from McDonald's to share with Matt and Mello. Her eyebrows knit in annoyance when she realized they'd left her kettle unattended with the impromptu campfire and she headed for her truck as neither boy was in sight. She eyed the vehicle warily as it was rocking against the cement blocks and laughed to herself incredulously. After a subtle knock on the door, she waited nearly two minutes before they opened for her.

"And here I thought you two weren't getting along," she winked at Mello's obvious disheveled hair and Matt's shirt that he hadn't been wearing inside out when she left them.

The merriment faded from her eyes, however, when her gaze shifted to the mess they'd made across her seats."Damnit boys, those stains aren't gonna come out of the upholstery!"

Christmas Eve at Wammy's House had always been an extravagant affair—decorations, food, presents, laugher, games, exemption from studies…so sitting in backroom of a strip club, watching half-naked women strut around brazently in panties and bras, was a considerable change from the normal atmosphere of mistletoe and eggnog. Mello was nervous. One of the club girls had lent him a suit of leather that they used on rare fetish shows and it was two sizes too small for the boy's physique, but it was the only thing they could find that wasn't a dress or women's lingerie, so Mello made due. He felt exposed in the vest and pants though, as they hung to his body like a second skin, showing off his midriff and shoulders. The boys waited in a cramped corner of the dressing room for the signal that Frenchie would be there. Finally, Candy rushed towards them and ushered Mello out, to face the gang lord alone.

"Mello?"

The exasperated blond turned to face the other, "_What_ Matt? Why must you wait 'til the last second for everything?"

The redhead simply stood and pulled the other boy towards him. He leaned in and brushed his lips tenderly against the older teen before pulling away. There were no words, just a curt nod and swish of hips as Matt was left alone.

Matt felt like he sat there for hours, waiting for Mello to return. He couldn't take it and stepped outside to smoke the last of his cigarettes. Just when he'd gotten sick enough to want to check on Mello personally, a tap on his shoulder had him whirling around to face the blond. Mello's eyes were intense and full of warning. He grabbed the other boy's hand and laced their fingers together before tugging the redhead towards the open street. Matt said nothing but merely followed his companion in silence as they exited the alleyway, leaving light footprints in the snow.

* * *

Omg! Longest one-shot, EVER. XD

So, Happy late birthday, Living in a fantasy! Hope you liked your story. Writing fluff nearly _killed_ me. Even if this isn't very fluffy XD.

Review please?


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